


Up All Night (to get lucky)

by epeeblade



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Humor, M/M, Sex is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:05:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2587541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeeblade/pseuds/epeeblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint can't sleep after sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up All Night (to get lucky)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Lapillus for the beta. 
> 
> I have no defense for this. None.

Clint arched his back just as Phil bottomed out inside him, and it was so damn good. He hung onto the bedsheets and closed his eyes, feeling nothing but Phil plastered against his body.

"Okay?" Phil asked, because he always did that – made sure Clint was okay. In the bedroom or in the field, it didn't matter. Phil took it as a personal duty to ensure Clint's safety.

Warmth spread in his belly and he laughed. "Not if you don't start moving, old man."

"I'll show you old man," Phil grunted. He immediately went to work – which had been the point of Clint's taunting – pistoning his hips into Clint's.

Clint loved the way it felt, how Phil was so deep, the way his thrusts rubbed his insides, hitting that spot that made him see stars. And when Phil got coordinated enough to reach around with one hand, it was all Clint could do to hang on for the ride.

He came first, feeling himself pour out into Phil's care. And then, he heard that tiny gasp that meant Phil was close. "Come on, sir," he said, and then Phil groaned his release.

Maybe they were getting too predictable?

Phil slid out of him with a squelch. He moved away long enough to fetch a towel and swiped at Clint's belly. Clint took it from him and finished taking care of Phil, as Phil curled around him. It wasn't long before he was snoring softly.

Orgasms were like sleeping pills for Phil. Clint knew he didn't have a lot of time before his lover drifted off into dreamworld. Clint on the other hand, really needed to pee.

He slid out from under Phil's arm and padded off to the bathroom. He contemplated a shower, but decided against it in case Phil was up for a round two in a bit.

When he got back to the bed, Phil had sprawled out on his back, his legs taking up a good chunk of Clint's half of the bed. Clint shoved one over and put his knee on the mattress, only to wince when he found the wet spot.

It was back to the linen closet to find a clean towel. Seeing they were low, he started up a load of laundry. On his way back to the bedroom, his stomach rumbled. Taking a detour to the kitchen, Clint grabbed an apple off of the counter and took a bite. He finished that off before heading back to the bedroom and arranging the towel over the wet spot.

Clint propped his head on his pillow and stared up the ceiling.

It would be nice if he could fall asleep. His mind kept racing, thinking back on today's events, remembering how Phil had felt in him, and winding around and around again. It felt stupid to lie here and NOT be sleeping. Maybe some TV would help.

He crept out to the living room and found the remote. If he ended up watching any of Phil's DVR'd reality shows, Phil would never forgive him for watching without him. Clint ended up turning on the Food Network.

An hour later he was taking a chocolate pie out of the oven. It was lopsided, and he still wasn't sure if he should have used baking soda instead of baking powder. He left it on the counter to cool before heading back to bed.

Clint slipped under the covers, stared up at the ceiling once again.

He really had to pee.

***  


"You look like shit, Clint."

"Thank you, Nat, I know I can always count on you for pointless flattery." Clint squinted. Had he added the sugar to his coffee yet? Screw it. He dumped another shake from the glass dispenser in the cafeteria.

"Am I going to have to talk to Coulson?"

Clint choked on his too-sweet coffee. "What?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Please, like I don' t know about your little love shack."

"Please don't ever call it a love shack…"

"The point is, Clint, is that he has no business keeping you up all night with his sexual prowess if you have a mission the next morning."

"Maybe I'm keeping him up with my sexual prowess…" Clint shook his head. "That's not the point. My sex life isn't any of your business!"

She just raised an eyebrow at him, and that gesture was filled with years of history between them, reminding Clint of every time she'd given him advice on relationships after his poor decision making.

"Ok, point." Clint gulped more coffee. Maybe if he drank it fast enough, he wouldn't taste it. "But that's not the problem. I just…can't sleep after sex."

She blinked at him. "And Coulson hasn't noticed this?"

"He sleeps like a log. Give him an orgasm and he's out for a least a couple of hours."

"All right. New rule, no more talking about Coulson's orgasms." Natasha had a very strange expression on her face, one Clint hadn't seen before. "You have to talk to him about this."

"Seriously? This is me we're talking about."

"Clint, tomorrow we're infiltrating an AIM base. I can't trust you to watch my back if you're sleep-deprived."

"Hey, I've done more things sleep-deprived than most people have sober." Clint took another sip of coffee and reflected on what he just said. "I'll try, okay?"

"Abstinence is also a solution."

Clint wouldn't let that happen.

***  


Clint watched Phil unknot his tie with firm, precise movements. Phil had deft fingers, his hands just as strong and capable as the man itself. Clint had realized his attraction for the other man after watching Phil wield a pen against some hefty reports, and wishing those steady hands were on him instead.

He ducked his head and undid the laces on his boots. They were back at the apartment after a long day of briefings, and all he wanted was to sink into bed and never come out.

But he had to talk to Phil first.

It was either that or give Phil the cold shoulder tonight, and that Clint didn't want to do.

"I think the briefings went well."

Clint turned to face Phil, to finally voice what was on his mind, only to find Phil undoing the buttons of his dress shirt and rolling up the cuffs. With each inch of forearm revealed, Clint felt his mouth go dry.

“What are you doing?”

“Undressing?” Phil smiled. “Is that a problem?”

“That’s never a problem.”

They would talk later. Right now, Clint needed to get into those perfectly pressed suit pants and rumple them up a bit. He took hold of Phil by the waist and manhandled him to the couch. In a matter of seconds, he had Phil’s belt undone, his fly unzipped and his hardening cock out. 

With a grin, Clint dropped to his knees, almost laughing at the way Phil groaned. If Phil unwrapping his stiff exterior did it for Clint, then nothing got Phil more revved up than Clint on the floor for him. 

It might have something to do with Clint using his mouth for something other than talking. He admitted to being proud of his uncommonly good blowjobs.

He had Phil to full mast in no time, using his tongue and careful strokes of his fingers. Then Clint sucked him down, pulling no punches. This was only round one after all. 

After Phil came with soft, low moans, he held out a hand for Clint and then led him into the bedroom.

Two hours later, Clint was staring up at the ceiling as Phil lay snoring beside him. He felt weightless and pleasantly sore. Phil had finger fucked him for what seemed like hours, but was just long enough for Phil to get up and running again. He grinned and stroked himself idly, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get it up again tonight, but still cherishing the memory.

He looked at the clock. It wasn’t that late, really. Maybe he should watch some TV and then come back to bed.

This time, no Food Network.

Clint settled onto the couch with Phil’s well-worn afghan around his shoulders and found a Project Runway marathon. Good. He wouldn’t be inspired to sew anything any time soon. 

Three hours later and he had to find out who made it to fashion week.

***  


The next morning Natasha took one look at him and made a disgusted sound in Russian. He wasn’t sure that was even a word.

“It’ll be fine. I’ll catch some sleep on the plane ride over.”

It was not fine. Clint came home from the mission with a bullet hole in his leg and two broken ribs. Nat had a concussion. 

He really needed to talk to Phil.

***  


Still, Clint couldn’t just bring the topic up. There didn’t seem to be any time, really, with him getting his leg stitched up and Nat glaring at him in medical. It wasn’t until Phil had made it to his room and started chewing him out that Clint had to speak up.

“Clint, what were you thinking? You could have been killed out there!”

He’d been thinking he just wanted to get it done, so he could get home and get some damn sleep.

“I can’t have you taking risks like this in the field…” Phil looked like he was just about to get started on a rant. And normally Clint loved the way Phil looked all flustered and passionate, but he really had to nip this in the bud.

“I can’t sleep after sex.”

“Excuse me?” Phil stopped in mid-rant, his hand still in the air.

Clint shrugged and burrowed himself deeper into the pillow, though considering it was a Medical pillow, there wasn’t much give. “After we, you know, I can’t sleep. I usually come into work and grab a nap and I’m okay, but yesterday we went right to the mission….”

Phil all but fell into one of the visitor’s chairs. “You didn’t think to tell me this beforehand?”

“I knew it was going to be an awkward conversation.” Clint let out a laugh. “I’m probably only telling you this because I didn’t manage to stop the medic from injecting me with painkillers…”

“All right, Clint.” Phil got up and planted a kiss on Clint’s forehead. “When you come down from the drugs we’ll have a real conversation about this. Because you’ve missed the obvious solution.”

“What’s that?”

“Morning sex.”

Turns out Phil always did have the best ideas.


End file.
